


Call It Whatever- is what my sibling said.

by Jubitea



Category: TharnType the Series (TV), เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25554352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubitea/pseuds/Jubitea
Summary: #domesticity
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Comments: 7
Kudos: 98





	Call It Whatever- is what my sibling said.

**Author's Note:**

> This account will be used by both my sibling and I because said sibling can't be bothered to make an account for themself. And, also, said sibling lazy AF. 
> 
> So, if the writing styles vary in the future works, that's probably why. We are two different people. Kinda. 
> 
> To clear any confusions, this account belongs to Sibling A. This current work is written by Sibling B (the lazy one). 
> 
> Enjoy! (Hopefully, we guess)

"Lunch, two more scenes and you're done for today," Gulf's manager says to him from behind the chair Gulf is currently sitting on.

Of course, Gulf knows that only means he's done with his shooting commitments for the day. He still has to attend his vocal lessons. The universe cannot be so kind as to let him have the rest of the day off. He's been swamped with work, so busy with schedule after schedule; sometimes it's hard to keep track of the days, thank heavens for his managers. However, he isn't complaining, he loves what he has the pleasure of calling a 'job'. Also, he can't really blame the universe for being unkind to him as he knows he's already been bestowed with all the kindness that she could muster in one go. A kindness that he's abundantly grateful for. She's practically running on fumes now. He can work with fumes. 

"Good practice today. You're improving everyday," Gulf's manager says as he's driving him back home.

"Thank you," Gulf says with his eyes shut.

"I've never been the best singer, never even thought I'd be singing and dancing in front of thousands of people. I can't keep winging it. I need these classes to have something that resembles quality, or effort at the least, to regale the fans with during fanmeets or lives, like the most recent UNICEF live we had. God, that was terrifying. It's not just 'for fun' anymore," Gulf says after a moment of silence.

"Hey, you're doing the best that you can. Rome wasn't built in a day. Your job description says model/actor. However, putting up a skit or striking a pose isn't exactly going to entertain the fans in a live setting," his manager replies with a chuckle.

"Exactly," Gulf replies with a smile. "I am enjoying the learning experience, though. I've discovered body parts that I didn't know could move independently. Still have to figure out tone and pitch. It's probably because I have tiny ears, it’s their fault," Gulf says laughing.

"You work hard enough. You'll get there," his manager reassures him.

They finally pull up in front of the apartment complex.

"Okay, get going. You got done quite early today. Get ample rest because tomorrow is another day. A very very packed-with-schedule day. I'll pick you up by eight. Enjoy the rest of your night," his manager says with a wave.

"Thank you, and you have fun with your date!" Gulf replies as he gets off and waves at the car that is already driving away.

Gulf thinks, based on how fast he zoomed out of there, his manager must be excited. Well, he deserves it. He's been working non-stop ever since Gulf's popularity picked up, if he can get off early on some rare days, that's well deserved.

Gulf walks into his building and makes his way to the elevator.

Unlocking the door, he takes his shoes off and makes his way to the couch to place his bag. He turns on all the lights as he passes by the switchboard.

It's still early in the evening so he decides to plop down on the couch and check the notifications on his phone; also maybe lurk around on social media. Just mindless browsing. 

After a lot of lurking, he ends up in a weird space. Shaking his head with a smile he thinks how the internet is such a wonderfully weird place. He stands up and makes his way into the bedroom. He pulls out a towel and a fresh pair of boxers then heads straight into the bathroom for a much needed shower.

After his shower, he stands in front of the mirror and debates on whether he should dry his hair or get dinner. As if on cue, his stomach makes a sound akin to that of a whale song and he rubs his stomach in an effort to soothe it. He quickly grabs the hairdryer and blasts his hair with the heat on the highest setting. He knows that cannot possibly be good for his already abused hair but he has more pressing needs to attend to. At least he's not completely skipping out on drying his hair. Once it's somewhat dry, he walks out and slips on his boxers.

He grabs his phone and places an order for delivery. He puts his phone on the nightstand and contemplates on how to best distract himself until the food arrives. He looks at the bed, does a little bit of maths in his head and decides to change the sheets.

He walks out to the linen closet in the hall and picks out fresh sheets and a duvet. He picks something he thinks is the fanciest one, Egyptian cotton or something. He's feeling fancy today. Sue him. He also picks out fresh satin pillowcases. All the covers have satin pillowcases made specifically to match the spread; something about satin having less friction and being good for the hair and skin. If anyone had told him he’d be this conscious about self-care a year ago, he would have laughed at them. It isn’t self-care per se, he’s just in love with someone who is absolutely anal about wrinkles and hairloss; and if satin pillowcases are something his love wants, satin pillowcases his love will get. Love is strange.

He brings the dark grey sheets up to his nose and takes a long whiff of the faint floral smell of the fabric conditioner that lingers on the linens. Happily skipping into the room, he strips off the bed and gets to work.

Just as he's replaced the last pillowcase, the doorbell goes off. He places the pillow down, smoothens its surface once and grabs a house robe off the loveseat on his way out.

He hears his phone ding in the room and he retrieves it. He walks into the kitchen to finally put some much needed food into his belly. With his phone and eyes on one hand, he reaches into the cabinets with his other for the plate and cutlery. He settles down on the kitchen island, replies to any messages that warrant a response and starts serving himself. For the next ten minutes, the only sounds coming from the kitchen are of cutlery hitting a ceramic plate and a commentator of a random old football highlight.

Done with dinner, he places the leftovers into the refrigerator and washes the utensils he dirtied. He fills a bottle with water and ambles into the bedroom.

Looking at the clock on the cream wall, it's still early. However, he knows better than to get comfortable before he brushes his teeth. Once he's done, he lathers his face with products that will supposedly fix his skin. Just bottles upon bottles of serums and essences; it's confusing as hell but he trusts his advisor. He gives his cheeks a final smack, 'sealing' in the goodness with a moisturiser, as he's been told. 

Done with his night routine, he gets comfortable with his back against the headboard, and decides to get a few rounds in on his game.

…………………………………..

'It's late. It's definitely very late in the night,' thinks Mew.

"Uh, not to sound rude, but you look like the undead," says Mew's assistant while they shuffle into the elevator.

All Mew can really do is tiredly chuckle while they wait for them to reach his floor. He's glad he has such a hands-on assistant because his legs are killing him and his arms feel like wet noodles. Four hours of rehearsing a set is not an easy task. He hates how much of a perfectionist he is, but he loves it at the same time. It's something that is his biggest flaw and his greatest asset simultaneously.

When they reach the door of the apartment Mew cannot find it in himself to lift his arm to unlock his door. God bless his assistant for psychically understanding him and fishing the keys out of his bag himself. He follows him in with heavy steps and just stands around waiting for him to place all his bags on the table in the drawing room.

"Okay, boss. Have a good rest, I'll be here to get you by 9 tomorrow," his assistant says as he makes his way to the door.

"Okay, thanks. Have a great night," Mew replies tiredly as he shuts the door and turns on the alarm system.

He's thirsty but he's more sleepy, besides there should be a bottle of water on his night table. Decision made, he slowly shuffles his way to the bedroom and makes a beeline for the bed.

"Stop right there." 

Mew hears his favourite sound, although he doesn't really appreciate the words as much, and tilts his head to give his best puppy dog eyes to the beautiful creature perched on the bed, who hasn't even lifted his head yet.

Said beautiful creature finally looks up and sees the expression on his face and with his eyebrows raised he says, "I just changed the sheets, or are you saying you're going to disregard your one cardinal rule, Mr. Jongcheveevat?"

Mew, making the poutiest of faces, lets out a whine at that and turns on his heels landing on the only other option in the room, save from the floor, the loveseat to the side of the bed.

He wiggles around, trying to stretch out as best as he can in the limited space afforded by the loveseat. With half his body hanging off, he shuts his eyes thinking that is as comfortable as he can hope to get.

A few moments later, he feels something hit his torso.

"Better take a shower before you fall asleep there. Your back will not be too happy about that."

Mew cracks his eyes open and notices a towel on his chest. He turns his head and his tired eyes see a smile that fans the embers of the warmth in his chest. He contemplates for a while and thinks the beautiful creature has a point. He has been abusing his poor body for a while now and it deserves better than to hang off of a seat that can't even accommodate half of him. It deserves to rest in the soft and fluffy embrace of the high-end mattress they invested in. To sink into its decadence and feel his tired bones and muscles burst into a collective chorus of hallelujahs.

He shuts his eyes for a moment and counts to three while he wills his body to move before his exhaustion makes the decision for him. Pushing the thought that now his whole body feels like a wet noodle aside, he lets out his breath in a huff and rises in one go.

Mustering all his remaining willpower, he starts to make his way to the bathroom.

"I'll heat the dinner for you," he hears Gulf say.

He stops and shakes his head, "I had it at the studio," he says.

Gulf narrows his eyes at that and Mew lifts his pinky finger up and says, "I swear."

Gulf doesn't look particularly convinced. Mew can't blame him because this isn't the first time Gulf has heard something like this. The last time he'd gotten sick, he had promised to look after himself better until he almost got sick again. At least the second time around he didn't need to be carted off to the hospital to be force fed and drugged into taking a rest. 

"You know I keep my promises. Especially the ones I make to you," Mew says.

"Hmmmmm…." comes the reply.

"Okay, I keep all the  _ new _ promises I've made to you. Also, I quite like my pinky, wouldn't want you cutting it off. I know there are only so many hooks you're going to let me off of," Mew says with a smile while he looks at his pinky, turning it this way and that.

"Alright, I believe you," Gulf says shaking his head, although his eyes haven't completely relaxed and Mew gives Gulf his dopiest smile in an attempt to uncrease his beautiful brows.

When he emerges from the bath, he notices that Gulf has turned off all the lights, shut the door of their room and the only illumination offered is from the night light by Gulf's side table. The whole room is awash in a soft golden glow and Gulf is back to playing his game with his elbows resting on his knees. Mew notices that Gulf has laid out a fresh pair of bottle green pajamas for him, no underwear in sight, Gulf definitely knows better. It's one of his silk ones. Gulf likes the way it feels pressed up against his skin as he can't be bothered to wear anything other than a pair of boxers to bed. Mew goes back to the bathroom to toss his towel into the hamper and walks towards the pajamas that lie in front of Gulf, buck ass nude. He slowly starts to pull on his pants and then buttons the shirt. Through it all, Gulf has spared him one singular glance.

Once he's dressed for bed, he makes his way to his side of the bed but seems to run out of energy before he can make the turn so he just belly flops onto the bed and crawls the last remaining inches so he can sink his face into the pillow. He nuzzles the pillow for a bit as the satin feels great against his cheek. He finally settles, facing Gulf.

Gulf turns to look at Mew and sees that his eyes are shut but he has a small smile playing around the corner of his lips. 'This man, he works too hard,' Gulf thinks with a shake of his head. He places his phone down and swings one of his legs over Mew's back and straddles him but doesn't put his weight on Mew. He hovers over him and places his hands over his shoulder blades and begins kneading with gentle but firm hands. Mew lets out a groan of approval at the action and sinks further into the mattress. His shoulders are very tense, he's been working harder than ever. With the announcement of his ambassadorship, his single coming out soon, having a stage at an upcoming music festival, the endless photoshoots, season 2 and his research work; this man is literally working himself to the bone. Gulf wants to do anything and everything that he can to support him. He knows how much Mew loves what he does and he's so very proud of him. Gulf wants to be the pillar and/or pillow that Mew can lean on and come home to. Gulf has his busy days but it's nothing compared to what all Mew needs to get done in a day. Sometimes he wonders if he's a Time Lord based on all the things he gets up to in a single day. 

Once Gulf feels Mew turn into putty under his fingers, he slowly stops his ministrations and places his hands on either side of Mew's head; palms down to hold his weight.

Mew can almost taste the chorus of hallelujahs that he was previously thinking about. His body feels relaxed and the haze of exhaustion loosens its grip on him. Gulf has magic fingers. Or perhaps Gulf himself is made entirely of magic. Just a glance, a touch, his mere presence is enough to lift any weight that Mew feels is on his shoulders. Gulf is his antidote. 

Mew cranes his neck and lightly presses a kiss against Gulf's wrist. It's a simple gesture that Mew has done a million times but it still makes his heart erupt. He scoots lower, leans in and places a kiss between Mew's shoulder blades in return. Mew lets out a happy sound from his throat. He's home.

Gulf comes back to his side, reaches for the duvet and pulls it over them, making sure Mew is properly tucked in. He then turns off the lamp and just as he's settling in on his back, he feels Mew blindly reaching out for him. His hand finds Gulf's elbow and he slowly feels his way up until he reaches his hand then laces their fingers together and gives it a squeeze. Gulf turns on his side, facing Mew and brings his other hand over Mew's, effectively sandwiching Mew's large hand in his slightly smaller ones and gives a squeeze back. He feels Mew moving, after his struggle to turn his body to face Gulf is complete, he pulls their hands towards him to nuzzle and kiss the back of Gulf's hand as he tangles their legs together.

"Goodnight, darling," Mew drawls.

Gulf inches closer to Mew's face, cranes his neck and kisses his forehead.

"Goodnight, my love," Gulf breathes.

Mew tilts his face up and captures Gulf's lips in a soft kiss. Gulf gently reciprocates. Parting with a smile, Mew puts his other hand over Gulf's and his already intertwined hands and pulls them against his chest. Gulf rests his head back down, a breath away from Mew. He can hear Mew's breathing slowly deepen and feel the steady rhythm of Mew's heartbeats against the back of his hand. He gives a gentle squeeze to the hands that are holding his, and lets the warmth he feels in his soul lull him into sleep.

And that is how the soulmates descend into their sweet slumber, sharing breaths, with their hands tightly clasped between their hearts and blissful expressions to match.

  
  
  
  
  


Additional note:

For my own personal gratification.

"Even 50 years later, they sleep with their hands clasped between them, albeit on the days their bones allow them to. On other days, it's just one hand holding the other's. Their hands, much like everything else about them, were always meant to hold each other."

**Author's Note:**

> 'MewGulf have taken over my whole goddamned life, it's not even funny anymore. I've lost a year of my life. #noragrets though.'  
> \- Sibling B


End file.
